


just leave the party with me and never go home

by mercurybard



Category: Mass Effect, Primeval
Genre: Community: au_bingo, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-26
Updated: 2010-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-13 09:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurybard/pseuds/mercurybard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Anomalies have taken Helen through time often enough.  But through space as well?</p>
            </blockquote>





	just leave the party with me and never go home

**Author's Note:**

> Neither of these belong to me. I take no credit and mean no harm. Title from "Planetary (GO!)" by My Chemical Romance.

The valley is dry. The inside of Helen's mouth is lined with dust, and her lips feel as if they're going to crack open. She's seen a lot of the Earth in varying eras, and this is not one of its lovelier ones. She's not sure where she is, or when she is--just that she ran out of her preciously horded water hours ago and the sun is merciless.

Which is why when she rounds the switchback in the valley and finds herself face-to-assault rifle muzzle with a group of heavily armored soldiers, she is more relieved that anything. The insignia on their armor isn't one she recognizes, but if there's one thing the human race is good at, it's inventing new causes and organizations to align themselves with. The air around each of them flickers with the barely visible energy of personal shields.

The one in the lead, a handsome man with military short dark hair, looks her over, eyes inspecting every curve and crevice of her. It's not sexual, just a blunt check for weapons. "You're a long way from anything," he says.

Helen shrugs. "Don’t suppose you have some water to spare?"

The leader cast a glance over his shoulder at the woman to his left and then unclipped a canteen from his belt. "Here."

She takes first a greedy gulp and then a long, slow sip, holding the water in her mouth. Just two mouthfuls and she's already starting to feel more human. Correction, more alive. After eight or so years wandering from Anomaly to Anomaly, the word 'human' now leaves a nastier taste in her mouth than a thousand deserts. "Thank you."

"You never said what you were doing out here," the woman on the left pointed out. The pistol in her hand didn't waver.

Helen shrugged. "I lost my way. And I don't see why I should tell you more than that, especially since we're not even acquainted."

"Miranda," the leader said, cutting off the dark-haired woman. "My name's Shepard, Commander John Shepard. This is Operator Miranda Lawson, and that over there is Tali'Zorah vas Normandy."

The woman on the right's face was completely obscured by a violet mask connected to what looked like a rebreather. A hood covered in elaborate scrolling embroidery shrouded her head. Helen swallowed when she realized that Tali'Zorah only had three fingers on each head and three toes on each foot. Not human then...or some mutated form of humanity so far from the original stock that it might as well be considered a different species. Several of Helen's trips into the future had brought her to times where mankind had relations with races from other planets, but she'd never actually met an honest-to-God alien before. The creature held her own weapon just as confidently as the Lawson woman. 

"Professor Helen Cutter," she introduced herself, holding the canteen back out to Commander Shepard. "I was doing research and got a bit lost." The truth, however vague it might be.

At a gesture from the commander, both his companions lowered and holstered their weapons, however reluctantly. "Glad we found you then. Any idea where your ship is?" he asked.

Helen shook her head. "If I knew that, I wouldn't have been stumbling around out here suffering from dehydration."

"EDI's scans didn't register any ships from orbit," Lawson said, her eyes sweeping coolly over Helen. If looks could freeze, Helen would be shivering. The commander might be a foolishly compassionate sort, but this woman was the proverbial ice queen. Helen wondered how they'd ended up working together. Hell, she wondered what sort of organization employed them. Military or para-military, based on their gear.

The three's comms crackled. "Hey, commander, better gather the girls and head back to the shuttle--scanners are picking up something that has 'Collector tech' written all over it."

"You'd better come with us," Shepard said. "Nobody wants to be caught out by the Collectors."

She had no idea what they were referring to, but she wasn't an idiot--she could see the sudden stiffening in the man's shoulders and the way Lawson's hand move unconsciously closer to the grip of her pistol. Whatever these Collectors were, they were a threat.

The pace Shepard set back through the canyon was grueling, and Helen found herself struggling to keep up with the trio. She'd spent so much time on her own, moving at her own pace unless there was some prehistoric or futuristic nasty nipping at her heels. Lawson pulled ahead quickly, and another lithe form soon appeared out from under an overhang to join the sprint.

"Kasumi Goto," Shepard panted. He'd fallen back to match strides with her. Watching their flank and keeping an eye on her, Helen had to assume. He was the most heavily-armored of the now-four. Tali'zorah and Goto wore light armor that looked like it might afford some protection if their shields failed. Lawson, though, wore a skintight black bodyglove that revealed a figure Helen felt slightly envious of.

Foolish. This was obviously an era of great scientific advancement if humans had personal shields and were in regular contact with aliens. Plastic surgery, genetic manipulation--there was dozens of unnatural ways for Lawson to have come into possession of a perfect body. Still, Helen in her grubby coveralls and three weeks' worth of grease and dirt in her hair couldn't help feeling a bit shabby.

The shuttle was an unassuming affair, stream-lined and business like. Definitely built to fit human sensibilities. Lawson keyed something into an electronic lock, and a hatch on the side of the shuttle swung open. The design reminded Helen of the helicopters in Vietnam War films--wide enough to allow multiple soldiers egress at one time. Fly in low, drop the men, and then get the hell out. She let Shepard herd her into a seat on the forward-facing bench in between Tali'zorah and Goto. She couldn't find a harness or seat belt, but when she leaned back, she felt the cushion beneath and behind her mold itself to her body.

Shepard banged an armored fist against the cockpit door and a moment later, the shuttle lifted off, smooth as you please. Looking past Tali'zorah, she could see the planet--as brown and dusty as the dirt caked to her clothes--fall away beneath them. That couldn't be Earth, could it? Was this the future, a future she'd never even glimpsed, with a planet completely barren of life? Sour bile--a mix of rage and grief--bubbled up on the back of her tongue.

Or had the Anomaly finally led her across just not time but space as well? "How far away from Earth are we?" she asked, phrasing the question carefully. If this were her planet, then they'd think she wanted to know how fast the craft was pulling away or something. If this wasn't, then maybe they'd give her an idea of how to get back home.

Shepard still gave her a slightly suspicious look, but answered, "About a third of a galaxy away. Just how lost are you?"

Helen tucked a string of greasy hair behind her ear and looked out the window. "Very, I'm afraid."

If Lawson did anything as lowbrow as snort, she would have then. "Cryptic much?"

Helen leaned further back into the cushion, letting it embrace her aching bones. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."


End file.
